Link in the Chain
by 24paws
Summary: Unknown dangers threaten the Enterprise, and landing party, as they investigate a routine planetary science station. Rated T for references to violence, no slash.
1. Chapter 1

**LINK IN THE CHAIN**

_**DISCLAIMER:**_ _I do not own 'Star Trek' or its characters. I'm just borrowing them for a while. No copyright infringement is intended._

**Chapter One**

Wiry bonds around his wrists dug deep into raw flesh – firm, metallic shackles pressing hard into enraged skin. With his arms pinned tight behind his back, his shoulders throbbed violently, and he flexed them in a failed attempt to ease the blood flow and stifle the spreading pain. His bare feet had lost all feeling hours ago, the cold restraints cutting hard, until at last he couldn't even feel the restraints. Immobile and secured, he had been painfully aware that increasing numbness was slowly consuming his body. It was with a drained resignation that he'd realised only the heavy, burning fire in his chest prevented him from slipping into unconsciousness altogether.

Peering into the oppressive gloom, he wondered for what seemed like the millionth time how long he had been there. There seemed to be little clue to go on as to how much time had elapsed since his arrival. Even his usually to-the-second accurate First Officer had been unable to inform him of the length of his imprisonment. Kept inside of what looked like a small cave, or chamber, even the tortuous visits of his captors had been unnervingly irregular. It was all part of the routine, he realised, a further way to unsteady him into cooperation. The rocky walls stretched uncompromising overhead, no windows or natural sources of light allowing insight into the passing of days or nightfalls. There was no furniture here, no equipment of any kind – there was only the hard dirt floor, the rock walls, and the landing party.

Despite the apparent harshness of the rock, the walls were remarkably smooth. With extreme care, he eased his torn back against the rigidity, grateful for the brief respite in his discomfort. He could only assume that the entire chamber had been hollowed from an area of solid rock with a strong focused phaser beam, or that of an alien disruptor. The cavern certainly hadn't occurred naturally. Only one area of open wall allowed entry or exit, and this had been blocked with a forcefield. It was hard to make out what lay in the shadowed spaces beyond – the dim lighting and curvature of an artificially constructed corridor hindered his view – but there seemed to be a small control complex area nearby from which his captors would gather and observe.

His eyes glazed over to an opposite wall, where two people in matching red Starfleet uniforms sat sprawled on the floor facing him. Leaning back against solid wall, their arms were tucked behind their torsos with their legs stretched out stiffly before them. They had been secured as he had, and slept silently now as he watched, their heads drooping. Before beaming down, he had recognised them vaguely as Lieutenants Redding and de Bois from security division. As Captain of four hundred and thirty crewmembers, he could afford little more than a name-to-a-face recognition with most of his crew.

The two Lieutenants had initially been assigned to the landing party by his over-protective First Officer as precautionary back-up. He'd seen the precaution as an unnecessary one. The mission, after all, had been a simple collection of scientific research from a long-established colony. After the hard few months they'd seen lately, he'd been glad for the opportunity of rest that a mundane mission such as this would normally have provided. His Chief Medical Officer had shared his relief, announcing to the entire Bridge crew that had the mission had been anything more strenuous he'd have immediately relieved them all from duty on medical grounds and then shorted out the communications console.

Tossing his First Officer a sarcastic smirk upon beam down, he'd pointedly told the two security men to sweep the area. It had been in accordance with standard protocol, but had seemed entirely redundant as he glanced around at the empty barren wasteland. There had been no sign of trouble, no indication of a threat. In fact, the ship's sensors hadn't picked up any sentient life outside the science station whatsoever. If only he'd known then the dangers that faced them on the planet's surface, he'd have taken the entire security staff. Or better yet, he'd not have beamed anyone down at all.

A quick pain in his side brought him back to the dark chamber, the two security guards still dozing and oblivious to all around them. It seemed wrong to see them so helpless, so vulnerable, and he fought down a renewed pang of guilt at having brought them to a trap. He was thankful for their restfulness, slightly envious of their ability to sleep, but ultimately grateful for their moments of measured peace. The hours since their arrival here had been long and unpleasant, and if his own experience so far was anything to go by, they'd need all the energy they could muster.

Nearby, partially concealed within shadow, two officers sat mutely watching him.

He forced his eyes to focus, and offered them a reassuring smile, darkly aware that it wasn't much of an offering.

'How do you feel, Jim?' one of the men asked.

Kirk recognised the gruff voice of Doctor McCoy, his Chief Medical Officer. Something in that familiar question, the gentle concern in his voice, filled him with a momentary sense of security, and he felt calmed, relaxed. Lifting his head to the Doctor, he noticed that the shadows playing across his face seemed to have aged him considerably. No longer the young country medic, he looked gaunt, wan, worn. The once healthy face scanned Kirk's own features, the warm blue eyes finding and cataloguing each injury as they worked their way down his body.

Kirk sighed, tired. 'I'm fine, Bones,' he said.

'Of course you are,' came the irascible drawl, 'and those loose, broken ribs are just decorative'.

Kirk opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say anything a small cough escaped him and he winced uncomfortably as a series of sharp pains knifed through his chest. Inhaling shortly, he focused his energies on relaxing, ignoring the painful movement of his splintered ribs, until he was able to breathe uninterrupted. He turned back to McCoy, aware of the ill-fated timing of his discomfort, and shot him a boyish grin. 'See, peachy,' he said, noting with concern that his voice had now acquired a slight rasp.

McCoy seemed to notice it too, and quickly exchanged a worried glance with the man seated next to him.

First Officer Spock wore the same distress and worry on his face that McCoy did, though he bore it differently. To a casual stranger the vague expression and inflexible carriage of his form appeared blank and emotionally detached, somewhat wanting of the situation, but to Kirk's trained eye he could make out the acute anxiety and concerned distress concealed beneath the angled features. Neglectful of his unsettling apprehensions, Spock himself looked somewhat tatty and maltreated. His Vulcan features seemed pale and pinched in the harsh inadequate lighting. His gaze, too, had been focused on Kirk, the blue shirt of his uniform unusually wrinkled and begrimed. 'If I correctly understand the meaning of that term, Captain, you do not sound peachy,' he said flatly.

Too tired to respond, Kirk ignored both of them, shifting his attention to a rustling movement on the other side of the forcefield. Somebody was coming.


	2. Chapter 2

LINK IN THE CHAIN

_DISCLAIMER:_ _I do not own 'Star Trek' or its characters. I'm just borrowing them for a while. No copyright infringement is intended._

Chapter Two

He set his shoulders and formulated a plan: he would lose himself in the darkness of space, if only he could put out the stars. The tiny twinkling lights, so seductive, seemed today to callously pulse in time with his headache. Each throb came at him like solidified Morse Code – hitting him hard like a desperate plea he was just too late to hear or answer: _S-O-S. S-O-S. _Those messages never got any easier.

His cousin's music had always had the same effect – the vintage sounds grating and jarring his childish senses. Those sounds had been the core of so many parties during his youth, so many headaches. Looking back now, history eased with the passing of hindsight and time, perhaps the headaches had had more to do with the scotch, more to do with his grandfather's expectations. But it was too late to change anything now. Those had been in his days before Starfleet, such a long time ago, back when he'd been less disciplined and guarded. Back when family had been everything, and Gordon had still been alive.

And now there was this. He shook his head. Quite why any of them had believed an easy routine mission would be easy or routine was beyond him. They must all have been more tired than he'd realised.

'What do ye mean missing?' he demanded. Another day, another problem. If only he could put out those stars. And that great red planet that filled the lower half of the screen – that could go too. Attos VII had thrown up issues since they'd arrived, with an unusual orbit and atmosphere and a source of radiation that had intermittently interfered with the ship's systems. Engineering staff were doubling shifts to fix the oddest problems.

He fixed his stern gaze on the paling Ensign at the Science Station, his dark Scottish eyes cool and uncompromising. If what he'd just been told was right, then his headache had only just begun.

There was a moment's hesitation, a beat, and then the Ensign seemed to melt. 'Scanners are no longer picking up their signal, sir. I'll run it again,' he said, his floppy blonde hair betraying his trembling. He reached for a few of the circuits, his long fingers working over the console as he re-ran the scans and checks.

Scott took in the instant – this was the moment when everything could change, when the everyday workings of standard working practice transformed from nothing into starkest red alert. Without looking, he could already feel the other Bridge staff working and caressing their stations to either substantiate or invalidate the Ensign's facts. Aside from the beeps and whirring of the ship's equipment, the only sounds were the quiet sentences spoken by the communications officer as she attempted to make contact with the planet. In the few small seconds it would take for the ship's sensors to re-sweep the surface of the planet, he dismissed his preoccupations and set his own mental alarm to scarlet. A deep subtle breath and he was ready.

He did feel for Ensign Barrie. His first rotation to the Bridge, the promise of an easy assignment – the chance to get a feel for a different system – and his first report had been to announce the disappearance of the Captain's landing party. But there was no time for exemption, and no need yet for moderation. It would only go on from here.

'Completed,' the Ensign said, finally, his voice unsteady but stronger than before. 'There's no sign. They're gone, sir,' he said. He turned from the science monitor to the command chair, and cast wide expectant eyes onto Scott, clearly awaiting either a reprimand or a miracle.

And there it was. Scott sighed, feeling the weight of responsibility settle once again onto his shoulders. He didn't flinch at the familiar load, knowing that the limitations and possibilities had just increased. His eyes drew once again to the viewing screen, but this time he wasn't looking at the stars.

'Confirmed, Mr Scott,' came a steady voice from the navigation station. Never taking his sight from the readings in front of him, Chekov's steady tone returned a semblance of control to the Bridge following the Ensign's shaky report of the situation. An Ensign himself, Pavel Chekov's demeanour conveyed his experience and professionalism, and Scott suspected it wouldn't be too long before Captain Kirk saw fit to bestow upon him a gold braid and promote him to the rank of Lieutenant.

'Malfunction?' queried Scott.

'No sir,' Chekov's immediate response.

A moment of silence settled over the Bridge as everyone took in the implications of this new information. Colleagues had been confirmed missing – friends.

'So much for the mundane mission,' the helmsman offered, turning in his seat, filling the Bridge with his sarcastic baritone.

'Now, that's a great help, Mr. Sulu,' Scott responded drily, from his central command seat.

Sulu grinned, though there was little humour behind it.

Scott read the worry in the helmsman's face, recognising a concern that mirrored his own. They would each deal with it differently.

Attos VII still filled the lower half of the screen. Somewhere on the planet, down on the dusty surface, something unexpected had happened. It only remained for him now to locate and recover the landing crew – either something had malfunctioned on board the ship, or they were now in vital danger. A third option gnawed at him. He refused to acknowledge the possibility that the landing party were already dead, and took to his feet.


End file.
